One humorous incident in connection with the outbreak of hostilities is worth recording. Animated by what Lord Clarendon would have called the spirit of flunkeyism, the Paris diplomatists grew greatly excited over the question of illuminations in the event of French victories. As was only to be expected, the accommodating Austrian Ambassador was foremost in advocating rejoicings, and he and his Italian colleague were bent upon illuminating their Embassies, while the representatives of the smaller Powers, such as Switzerland, who lived in less conspicuous abodes, opposed the proposal, and were supported by the British Ambassador. The question was referred home, and the Foreign Office took the common-sense view that the Ambassador should not illuminate without necessity, but should do so rather than cause trouble or give offence.
The early reverses of the campaign were concealed from the public with some success, MacMahon's defeat being known at the Embassy twelve hours before the official announcement; but as soon as the truth came out, the population of the capital seems to have believed that the Germans would at once appear before Paris.
Lord Lyons to Lord Granville.
Paris, Aug. 8, 1870.
If the panic in the army is as great as it is in the capital, it is all over with France. One would think that the Prussians were already in Montmartre. There must, it is supposed, be a great battle fought before they can get there, and the French may win it.
I have been beset with Representatives of small Powers, all except the Belgian, in consternation, and with Rothschilds and other bankers in despair. They hope England will interfere to stop the Prussian army on its road to Paris: not an easy task if the road is open.
All Gramont could or would tell me was that the Emperor was concentrating forces between Metz and Chalons, and that a great battle was expected.
I was really ashamed to speak to him about our Treaty, but I thrust your despatch on him, knowing you were anxious to avoid delay. He said: n'ayez pas peur, nous n'avons pas grande envie d'entrer en Belgique dans ce moment.
In the Chamber, no one, even on the Right, had the generosity to say a single word in defence of the unfortunate Emperor when a declaration was made from the Tribune that all the disasters were due to the inefficiency of the Commander-in-Chief. Ollivier and his colleagues resigned, and General Trochu, who had been given an unimportant command in the South, was hailed as the possible saviour of the country, and offered, in vain, the War Office in the new administration of Count Palikao. It is instructive to note that Gramont (upon whom Bismarck subsequently heaped the most savage contempt) denied to Lord Lyons that he had ever been in favour of war. According to him, the strongest phrase in the declaration of July 6 was inserted at the Council on that morning, and was not in his draft, and he threw the blame of the imprudent haste in going to war on Lebœuf's confident declaration that neither France nor any other country had ever been so well prepared for war before. Lebœuf's celebrated declaration about gaiter buttons has always been cited as almost unequalled for fatuity, but it is an undoubted fact that Gramont himself was convinced that a Franco-Prussian war was inevitable, and he is not known to have discouraged the idea.